I’m not a Regressor - Chapter 69: Mind, Technique, Body (2)

The year is 2236 and the Deep Dive Virtual Reality Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game Ancients World is the most advanced game of its type ever created. Now that DDVR technology has reached the stage of commercial consumers everyone is addicted to the games available. A person who spent 5 years in the game has been reincarnated in his younger self as a request from a world item the game provided. Not everything is known about Ancients World since he only spent 5 years playing, so things will change this time around.

Many people don't really know what the game really provides till everyone with an internet connection is playing. It is the only way to survive in the coming years because of how special the world is.

Cera Adamo is a young man who is almost 20 and he is the one that found the world item that granted him one wish, something that saved his life in a last chance effort. He chose to go back into the past so he can get everything he needs for his family, he doesn't want them to be dirt poor like they once were and this is his way to secure that it never happens again.

After dying while trying to save the Hero's life, only to be abandoned by him the very next instant, Raven ends up before the goddess who'd given him as well as his party their powers. Having witnessed the Hero's failures, the Goddess and Raven strike a deal of mutual benefit. And what's the deal you ask? He has to take over the Hero's spot and strike the forces of evil out of her world. And his reward? The power to steal any woman of course!Revived with the power to seduce anyone no matter their relationship status, the biggest playboy adventurer begins his journey to rack up the highest body count throughout the world!Special Note: Uncensored character pics on my discord server, please join!Warnings:R18||Violence||BDSM||Heavy Netori Elements(Mc stealing other people's woman)

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.